


The Jade Curse

by dalekjast



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 09:29:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14952062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalekjast/pseuds/dalekjast
Summary: Before the infamous Whitechapel murders, Victorian London finds itself terrorized by a group of faceless but brutal killers. Only the Great Detective can solve the mystery - but she can't do it alone.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes
> 
> Hello, lovely readers. I've had this story up on another site for a while, but recently I've been reading on this site, so I decided to add my story here as well. 
> 
> This story is set in the main Doctor Who universe some time after the Doctor finds Vastra and gets her set up in London, and is my take on how she might have added Jenny to the household. Unfortunately, this means there's a distinct lack of Strax (boo!), but if all goes well, perhaps I'll be able to get my story ideas about him down on paper at some point (yay!). I've done my best to fit my story in with the known facts from the show & extended media (books, etc.), so let me know if you notice a glaring error. I like my stories to fit in.
> 
> Yep, it's at least an "M" rating. Vastra's an upper-class lizard in a relationship with her maid when she's not busy chasing after violent criminals and potentially bringing them home in pieces to enjoy with a cocktail. Honestly, I don't know what other rating you'd expect. I get nothing out of this beyond enjoyment and (hopefully) refinement of my writing skills. Anything you recognize belongs to the BBC. No beta, so if you notice any typos or have constructive criticism, feel free to share with the class.

The fog lay heavily over the dark London streets, blurring the lines of buildings and roads and lending an unreal cast to the city. The conversations of passersby and the clatter of carriages were curiously muffled, as though the fog was a blanket of silence smothering the city's voice.

The expansive townhouse overlooking St. James Park excited no interest from pedestrians – it was one of many such houses. The lower windows were dark; only a few lights showed on the upper floor. Evidently the occupants had retired upstairs for the evening.

If any of the pedestrians had approached the door of the townhouse and listened, very carefully, they might have heard a faint but terror-filled wail from behind the thick oak. But none of them did.

#

In another London townhouse, a solitary figure sat in a large armchair pulled unreasonably close to a roaring fire. The figure was shrouded in a heavy robe, and only moved on occasion to add a new log to the fire.

An observer might have noticed how the cloaked figure's posture sagged, bespeaking deep weariness. The observer might have seen the occasionally shake of a head or drop of a shoulder that marked the figure's not-quite-silent sighs of anguish. But there was no one to observe.

#

The darkness of Whitechapel flowed around a woman, huddled against the side of a crumbling tavern wall. The threadbare shawl she clung to was hardly warm enough to hold back the chill of a London night. She stared longingly at the light spilling from the tavern's door for a moment before catching herself with a brusque shake of her head. Pulling the shawl more tightly around her shoulders, the woman turned her back on the tavern and made her way deeper into the warren of Whitechapel's streets.

If any of the boisterous late-night drinkers had taken notice of the woman, they might have seen the tear tracks sliding down her cheeks or the way her lower lip trembled. But no one saw.

#

On a quiet country estate some thirty miles from London, a tall, dour man moved through the house snuffing candles. His tread was light, his steps careful to avoid any of the loose floorboards that would disturb the master of the house, already abed with his mistress.

The wind whistled through the elm trees lining the front drive and rattled the windows. The man cinched his coat a little tighter against the draft. He leaned over another candle, then hesitated.

In a sudden moment of stillness as the wind died down, the creak of a stair echoed through the hall. The man turned slowly, hands tensing at his sides. His light, careful step took him to the base of the stairs.

But there was no one there.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, readers, I'm starting out that M rating with a bang - this chapter might be a bit gruesome, so beware.
> 
> I may be popping back to edit chapters here and there, but if I make any major edits that affect the plot/characters, I'll try to make a note of it when a new chapter goes up so that you can check back for what was updated.

Morning dawned cold but clear over London. The mayhem of millions of people normally hidden beneath a curtain of smog was open to view, and Inspector Julian Griggs cursed his luck as he watched his constables try to covertly go about their business. He turned to Constable O'Brien.

"Still no word from the detective?"

"No, sir, no reply given when our message was delivered last night and we've not heard a thing since."

Griggs swore quietly. "Send another."

* * *

Madame Vastra was nursing her third cup of tea when the messenger from Inspector Griggs arrived on her doorstep. She took the note and tried to shoo the boy off, but he refused to budge, so she left him shivering on the stoop while she retreated indoors to read the missive. It was short and to the point - rather like the inspector himself.

"St. James Park. Descretion required. Come immediately."

Vastra sighed. The air had a sharp edge to it that signaled an impending frost, and she wasn't looking forward to leaving the sanctuary of her drawing room and its oversized fireplace. She had ignored Griggs' note the evening before; she was somewhat nocturnal by nature, but no amount of criminal intrigue could have lured her out into the mix of freezing rain and biting wind that had plagued the city.

However, a second summons so soon on the heels of the first could only mean that Griggs genuinely did need help. He was a difficult man, but a good inspector and not given to exaggeration. She scribbled a brief note indicating she would arrive shortly and returned to the front door, pressing both the note and a hot scone into the delivery boy's hands. He stuttered out a thank you through chattering teeth and dashed off.

Returning to the drawing room, Vastra hesitated before deciding there was time to finish her last cup of tea. While she still resisted many of the human conventions she found herself surrounded by, the tea drinking had grown on her. There was something soothing about sipping the hot liquid, and the warmth helped fortify her cold-blooded constitution against London's less-than-tropical climate.

The tea finished, she reluctantly rose and began donning her warmest outerwear. After a year in London, she had a fatalistic acceptance of the cold, but Vastra still had to dress carefully in order to avoid sending her system into shock. She finished off the ensemble with a hat and veil designed to hide her from excitable human observers.

The bells of St. Paul's Cathedral and the dull roar of bargaining voices from shoppers and storekeepers alike formed a continuous background as Vastra strolled down Paternoster Row in search of a cab. She huffed in frustration as three of them sped past with no signs of stopping. The veil on her hat was actually a present from the Doctor, modified with a slight perception filter to avert curious eyes, but on days like today, Vastra half suspected the filter was doing its job too well and preventing cab drivers from actually seeing her at all.

She finally managed to hail a cab and was soon en route to St. James Park, absently watching the pedestrians as she contemplated what sort of crime had Inspector Griggs so concerned. She was even more surprised to alight in the Park and see little evidence of a police presence. A lone constable waited on the street.

"Madame," he said quietly. "If you'll follow me, the inspector is just inside. I've got to warn you, ma'am ..." He hesitated.

"The scene is gruesome?"

"Yes, ma'am. Fortunately the cold kept the smell down, but, well ... I know you're not the type to swoon, but best brace yourself."

Vastra inclined her head and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was hardly the bobby's fault that his concern was misplaced. _He'd be the one swooning if I removed my veil._ She was still smiling slightly to herself over that thought when she was led to Lord Edwin Burrows' townhouse. A high profile murder, indeed.

The smell of death might have been reduced for the humans due to the freeze, but it hit Vastra's heightened senses like a slap in the face when she stepped into the foyer. Several constables milled about, generally looking useless and getting in the way, and she could hear Inspector Griggs shouting from further into the house.

"I don't care what the damn morgue people tell you. You arrest 'em and bring 'em here in cuffs if you have to! These bodies have to be cleaned up before we move them. I won't have the broadsheets getting wind of this!"

Vastra heard a mumbled response, and then the door to the sitting room flew open with such force that it knocked a dent in the hall's paneling. Griggs stormed out but pulled up abruptly when Vastra cleared her throat.

"Ah, Detective. You're here, finally. Come with me. Body's this way. Mostly." Griggs set off down the hall, constables hastily clearing a path. Vastra followed in his wake. The smell of decay grew stronger as they neared the back of the main hall and the door to the servant's passageway.

The inspector spoke over his shoulder as he led the way through the kitchen. "Had a summons from Duke Poyntz yesterday evening. Seems they were to accompany Lord Edwin Burrows to some affair at Hyde Park, but he never showed. When they didn't hear from him the next day, His Grace became concerned and sent a man around. Upon receiving no response at the house, they sent a message to the Yard asking us to investigate. Some constables forced entry last night and found ... well, a massacre."

Griggs opened a door at the rear of the kitchen. "Leads down to the meat cellar." He glanced at Vastra's long skirts. "Careful of the stairs."

Not for the first time, Vastra found herself mentally cursing the absurd human fashions of the day as she tried to navigate the steep cellar stairs. A young constable offered a steadying hand and she took it reluctantly, resenting the show of weakness but sensible enough to realize that her heeled boots were no match for the climb. She glared at the men's sturdy work boots, but when she reached the cellar floor all thoughts of footwear were wiped from her mind.

The body of Lord Edwin Burrows was spread-eagled on the floor. The hands were held extended with large railroad spikes driven through the wrists; the right leg was a tangle of bloody flesh and protruding bone, while the left was missing altogether from the knee down, the stump charred and blackened. Fingers were ripped from both hands. The large pool of blood under the corpse matched the hundreds of small and not so small cuts across the body, and a random pile of severed ears magnified the horror.

Vastra held her breath to prevent being overwhelmed by the decay and leaned closer to study the face. Lord Edwin's mouth was open in a never-ending scream of anguish, and she could see bloody gaps where several teeth had been removed. The nose was smashed, the ears slit, and she imagined the eyes would have been bulging if they hadn't already been scooped from the skull. The man would obviously have died in short order from massive trauma, but the slit throat and gaping hole over his heart seemed to indicate that his torturers had finished with him first.

Stepping away from the corpse, Vastra finally allowed herself to inhale. She frowned and took another breath, flicking her tongue out briefly. A strange scent teased the air beneath the blood, but she couldn't quite place it. Something to track down later.

"You found him last night. Have you any idea when he was killed?" Vastra asked.

"He was at Westminster on Monday for a vote, so sometime between then and Wednesday when he missed his outing with the Duke," Griggs said.

"Was the leg removed as part of this torture, or had that been done already?"

Constable O'Brien, Griggs' frequent shadow, cleared his throat. "We don't know. However, Lord Burrows was in the Navy during the wars, and we've been unable to find the missing leg. The other, er, pieces are in the study."

"There are at least three different sets of boot prints," Griggs said. "Couldn't find the knife they used, and with the household staff dead, we had no way of knowing if they took it from the kitchen or brought it in. No witnesses around ..."

The inspector trailed off as Vastra waved him into silence. She closed her eyes for a moment. Tasted the air again. Four men. Griggs was almost right. With the unique scents firmly settled in her mind, Vastra resumed her study of the body.

The slices appeared to have been done by a thin, sharp edge, likely the same one that slit Lord Edwin's throat, but as Vastra studied the torso, she became convinced that something much more clumsy had been used to punch the gaping hole in the corpse's chest. The blood had dried nearly black, coating the edges of the wound and standing up in an odd pattern. _Wait, what?_ Vastra bent down and let out a small noise of surprise as she realized that what she had taken for more blood was in fact a black feather mashed into the wound.

"Hold on, what's that?" Griggs protested as she tugged at the feather.

"Fetch some water, and perhaps a pair of tongs," she said.

A judicious application of water to soften the blood allowed Vastra to pull the feather free. She held it carefully in a gloved hand. _Even broken it's an excellent size. Raven, perhaps?_ Griggs scowled, though whether it was due to the complication of the evidence or because his constables had missed the feather, Vastra couldn't say.

"Anything else down here you need to see?"

"Are we on a time table, Inspector?"

Griggs' scowl deepened. "Aye, we need to wrap this up before it gets out. Murdered peers make the department look bad and get the good citizens in a panic. We'd have had a bit more time if you'd come when I first let you know," he added under his breath.

Vastra raised a brow at him, which was wasted behind the veil, and let the room stew for several moments. Griggs fidgeted with the baton on his belt. She felt he needed these little reminders every so often that she wasn't one of his constables, available at his beck and call.

When she decided she'd let the silence drag on long enough, Vastra scanned the room for anything else immediately relevant. Bloody footprints showed where the murderers had walked about, including one that appeared to leave and return to the cellar several times. Something about the footprints nudged at Vastra's mind, but she couldn't yet say what.

A hard stare, a moment of focus, and the room was committed to her eidetic memory for future study. She turned back to Griggs. "Let us proceed to the other victims."

As they passed through the kitchen, Vastra eyed the cabinets and shelves. Neat, orderly, everything in its proper place, including good silver and fine china. An experimental sniff told her that the murderers had not lingered in this room. _So, not garden-variety thieves, though that was hardly likely given the torture._

The upstairs drawing room revealed a line of bodies laid out like a slaughterhouse floor, throats cut and ears missing.

"Reckon they weren't all killed at once," Griggs offered.

Vastra nodded. "Killed off one by one, perhaps in a further attempt to torture Burrows, with the severed body parts taken back downstairs as proof."

Whoever these killers were, Vastra realized, they were experts at suffering, both physical and psychological. The level of ferocity suggested both a desire for information and a desire for revenge.

"Whatever Lord Burrows had," Griggs said, putting emphasis on the title, "he must have wanted to keep it almost as badly as they wanted to take it."

"Or, he no longer had it and they didn't believe him." Vastra frowned at the bodies. "I suppose these are all the household servants?"

"All the ones we know about. Not really anybody to ask about who might be missing."

Vastra took another mental snapshot of the room. "Very well, Inspector. Let's view the office. Perhaps it has more to tell us."

Bloody footprints lead across the Oriental rug to a desk piled with what Vastra could tell at a sniff were the missing pieces of Lord Edwin Burrows. A few desk drawers stood open, and a picture had been knocked off the wall, but the room showed a remarkable lack of ransacking. A small safe was built into a wall, but Vastra could see no signs of scratches or other attempts to force it open, and the scents in the room told her the intruders had not lingered at the safe.

"Impossible to tell what if anything's missing without anyone to ask, of course."

Whatever the murderers were after was large, some sort of physical object, Vastra surmised. No attempts to check the safe or other small hiding places. She beckoned Griggs to follow and began a walk-through of the house, watching for spots clear of dust or other signs that something had been removed from the house. Scent told her that the intruders had explored thoroughly, but she saw no signs that they had found what they were looking for.

A loud crash sent them running back to the front hall, where a constable stammered an apology as he tried to sweep up the remains of a shattered vase he'd knocked off the table. Vastra surreptitiously pocketed a piece of ceramic. She was no expert on real artifacts and forgeries, but there were many people who specialized in such work. A few ideas about the killings were beginning to form in the back of her mind. _I need to be alone to think things over._

"Well, Inspector Griggs, I think I have learned enough for the time being. I have some other inquiries to make, and I shall of course wish to speak with Poyntz, as well as any relations of Burrows."

Griggs looked pained, but gestured to O'Brien. "Send a message to His Grace requesting a meeting." O'Brien nodded and slipped out, and Griggs turned back to Vastra.

"What can you tell us?"

"Nothing yet, Inspector. I must evaluate the facts of the case. All in due time. I shall be in contact soon."

Ignoring the unintelligible muttering from Griggs, Vastra took a last long look around the townhouse and made her way back to the street. A constable offered to summon a cab for her, but despite the cold air, she declined. It was a rare clear day, and a walk in the sun would do her good. Besides, she had found that a rattling carriage was not conducive to clear thinking.

She was still mulling over several unsatisfactory gaps in the evidence when she arrived back on Paternoster Row. Her distraction dropped away as she opened the door and immediately realized that she was not alone. The strong smell of pipe tobacco permeated the air and prevented her from getting a fix on what kind of intruder waited for her.

Claws and tongue at the ready, she stalked quietly through the house before pausing at the door to her study. Flinging the door open, she jumped in, ready to attack, only to stop short.

"I know, I know, pipe smoking, not really my thing. But I had to get the drop on you somehow." The young man sitting at her desk ran a hand through his spiky brown hair and grinned at her.

"Doctor!"


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first big block of character interaction always worried me - how to stick a character's, well, character, without turning them into a caricature. It's a fine line to walk, especially with these two. At any rate, thanks to those who take the time to read, follow, or review.

After recovering from her surprise, Vastra ushered the Doctor into her kitchen for a cuppa. He stuck with tea, raising an eyebrow when she returned from the larder with a goblet of blood.

"Do you drink that when your other dinner guests are here?" the Doctor said. Vastra gave him a withering stare. He snorted. "Well, it's still good to see your cheerful face."

"If you want to see my cheerful face, come back in July. These months make me wonder if I shouldn't have let you leave me on Kor Paan after all."

"The desert would have been fine, but, honestly, I don't think you'd have liked the local culture much. Little too fond of reptiles as a dinner delicacy. I could take you to Africa."

"Quite all right." Vastra sipped her blood. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, just stretching my legs, doing a bit of running about before I keep an appointment, thought I'd pop in and check on you."

Vastra studied him carefully. "Since when do you keep appointments?"

"Oh, favors for old friends and all that," he said airily. "Actually, speaking of deserts, just got back from a rather nice one not too long ago. Or, well, would have been nice if the inhabitants were still around. Then again, maybe you prefer it that way."

The Doctor rambled on about buses, and she just let him talk. Vastra loved the Doctor dearly in all of his faces, but she was supremely grateful she'd never traveled with this one at length. He was best taken in small doses.

Still, the longer she listened to him, the more she realized something was wrong. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but the Doctor was off somehow. Where he was normally hyperactive, he now bordered on maniac, and his eyes flitted away whenever their gazes met.

"What happened to your last traveling companion ... the redhead, wasn't it?"

The corners of his eyes flinched, and his jaw tightened ever so slightly. She would have missed it if she hadn't actually been looking for it.

"Oh, you know how it is, I can't hang on to anybody for too long. So tell me, what have you been up to?"

Vastra wanted to push him, but the Doctor could be remarkably stubborn, so she let him change the subject.

"I have stumbled onto a rather unique case - a set of murders."

"Ooh, somebody disembowled in Whitechapel?"

"No. Why would you ask that?" Vastra said suspiciously.

The Doctor pulled out an odd-looking watch, scowled at it, and stuffed it back in his pocket. "No reason."

Vastra sighed but decided to move on. "A peer of the realm was found murdered in his home, along with his entire household. I have a few ideas worth considering, but on several points I must admit to being perplexed."

"Brilliant!" The Doctor grinned. "I'll stay and help you. I'll be Watson to your Holmes. It'll be great!"

"You'll be who?"

The Doctor muttered something under his breath and waved off her question. Vastra decided she probably didn't want to know. If there was one thing she'd discovered from traveling with the Doctor, it was that learning about the near future could have serious repercussions.

"In any event, I don't remember you making house calls. Every time you've come by, you've wanted to sweep me off on some grand adventure."

"Oh." His face fell slightly. "Do you want to go off on an adventure somewhere?"

"Actually, no. I'd prefer to solve this case. I'm just concerned about you."

He clapped his hands together. "Well, in that case, a house call is probably just what I need to get me up to snuff. So, less worrying about me, more telling about the case."

Vastra locked eyes with the Doctor in a brief standoff before acquiescing.

"Inspector Griggs called me out this morning to view the scene." As she described the evidence to him, she could see the Doctor's brow furrow. When she reached the end of her tale, he sat silently for a few moments.

"You said there was a strange smell you didn't recognize?" She nodded. He stretched a hand out to her. "May I?"

Vastra tipped her head forward so that he could rest his hand against her temple and establish a psychic link. He examined her memory of the room and let out a low whistle as he sat back.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of it, but I can shed some light on your mystery substance. Definitely opium."

"I've smelled that foul human drug before, and it's quite different-"

"Nah, this stuff is special. Most of the opium you get around here, and in China for that matter, comes from India. The British have been pouring it into China to keep their trading situation under control. But your opium is a homegrown Chinese variety. Marco Polo's dad introduced me to it."

"Introduced you, how?"

"The 60s were a great decade," the Doctor said absently. "Anyway, whatever your murders are about, you've got at least one Chinaman connected somehow."

Vastra drummed her claws on the table. Something about the Doctor's information was tickling at the evidence in her mind ... She could almost make the connection ...

"The boots!" She slammed her hand down, making both the teacups and the Doctor jump.

"Sorry?"

"There were boot prints in the blood around the body, but they were all very sharp - each murderer was wearing brand new boots."

"Like, for example, people who just stepped off a boat from China and had to procure local clothing to fit in." The Doctor grinned. "I knew as soon as I met you that you'd be good at this."

"Liar." Vastra smiled. "You just wanted to watch Griggs suffer."

"Weeeell ..."

Vastra rose and began clearing off the table. The Doctor sprang up to help, but she waved him off.

"You could get a maid," he suggested.

"I may have to work with the apes, Doctor, but I certainly do not have to have one underfoot in my home."

The Doctor grumbled something she was probably better off not hearing and retreated upstairs to the study. Vastra washed out the tea service, her hands moving automatically, mind far away. Doing her own housework had been an adjustment when she landed on Paternoster Row, but Vastra didn't object to the chores - they kept her from dwelling on her losses.

Of course the Doctor thought she should fight her demons by making friends. Vastra snorted. When her sisters were killed, the Doctor had stopped her from taking out her grief on all of London, and once her blind rage had subsided, Vastra hadn't really blamed the rest of the humans for the actions of a few. But some hurts ran too deep to mend. She might not blame the humans, but each time she looked at one she could see the dead faces of her kind all the same.

Vastra left the teacups drying on the sideboard and made her way back to the study. The Doctor had dug out one of her London maps and was studying it intently.

"I think our first order of business should be to find an opium den," Vastra said. "If this substance is particularly rare or valuable, we may be able to track it to a specific supplier."

"I like it." The Doctor fiddled with his sonic screwdriver. "I might even be able to trace our culprits if we get a physical sample."

"Very well. We can also stop by the Yard and see if they can give us any more information on Lord Burrows or his family."

Inspector Griggs was out when they arrived, but Constable O'Brien was able to point them in the direction of a gentlemen's club on the Strand that Lord Burrows was known to frequent. He also promised to send a boy around that evening with a file containing what information they did have on Burrows.

Vastra and the Doctor decided to stop by the clubhouse first, since the opium parlors of Limehouse likely wouldn't open until late in the day. They ran into a small snag, however, when the doorman refused to allow Vastra to enter the club.

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but the club is a gentlemen's area only."

Vastra growled slightly under her breath. The Doctor squeezed her arm warningly and turned an icy glare on the doorman. "Come now, man, you can hardly expect my ward to wait outside in this cold! My business is brief, and then we'll be out of your way."

The doorman looked supremely uncomfortable but refused to budge. "I'm sorry, m'lord, but it's more than my job's worth to let her in. There's a tea house just 'round the corner the ladies often wait at when their gentlemen need to stop in."

Vastra rolled her eyes, but prodded the Doctor forward. "Go on. I'll wait at this shop for you." Another day she might have bullied her way in regardless, but with the Doctor present, there was little reason to terrorize the doorman. Vastra was confident the Doctor would be thorough and bring back any relevant information.

With a last evil look at the doorman, Vastra returned to the carriage and instructed the driver to take her to the tea house. She settled into a corner, away from as many prying eyes as she could manage, and sipped at a cup of tea, cursing under her breath as her veil continually got in the way. She missed being able to walk about with her face uncovered, but even the Doctor didn't have a perception filter strong enough to handle that, and such a thing would render her nearly invisible, making interaction with anyone difficult.

After over an hour of waiting for the Doctor, Vastra started to get impatient. She was on the point of returning to the club and forcing her way in to check on him when the Doctor strolled through the door, looking rather pleased with himself. He ordered a cup of tea and settled in at Vastra's table.

"Good news and bad news. Bad news is, I didn't turn up even the slightest hint of anything shady goings on with Burrows. Seemed to be quite the paragon of virtue."

"And the good news?" Vastra prompted.

"Apparently Lord Burrows was quite the collector of Asian artifacts. All those things you saw in his house? Brought back a lot of them from his tour of duty in China."

"I understand he was in the Navy. Stationed there during the Opium Wars?"

The Doctor nodded and sipped his tea. "Now that is good stuff. Don't know why the tea is so much better in this century. Anyway. Burrows was stationed in the South China Sea. Seems he acquired a taste for Oriental decor."

"So you're thinking the murderers were after some object?" Vastra frowned. "If they were, I didn't see any sign they'd found it."

"Could be an object. Could be information concealed in an object." The Doctor paused. "Could be a person."

Vastra narrowed her eyes. "You're holding out on me."

The Doctor nodded. "I had a very illuminating chat with an occasional chess partner of Burrows. One who'd been around to his house quite frequently. Apparently Burrows had a maid - possibly a mistress - that he'd brought back with him from China."

"There were no Chinese among the dead servants," Vastra said slowly. "This maid might still be alive."

"Exactly. We need to find out where she is and what she knows."

"Our best chance of doing that quickly is still the opium," Vastra said. She started to rise, but the Doctor shook his head.

"It's not even dinner time yet. Show up at the parlors now and they'll be suspicious."

"They'll be suspicious of me anyway. Now, later, it makes little difference to my methods."

The Doctor frowned at her. "You really should consider taking on some help."

"Doctor - and I can feel that I'm repeating myself here - I will not have one of these humans intruding upon my life. I know you think this idea of yours is going to fix me, somehow, but some things are not meant to be."

"What would you have done without me along at the club?"

Vastra smirked involuntarily. "Something you wouldn't have approved of, no doubt."

"You can't just ride roughshod over people all the time. If you had some help, you could probably be a lot more efficient with these investigations," the Doctor insisted. "I just think -"

"This discussion is over." Vastra cut him off abruptly, gripping the edge of the table to control the slight tremble in her hand. She took in the mulish set of his jaw and the narrowed eyes. "Why are you suddenly so concerned about this? About me?"

"I ... know what people like us can do when we're all alone," he said quietly.

"Doctor, what is going on?"

He spun his screwdriver around his fingers and ignored her question. "Where in Limehouse should we start?"

Vastra took a deep breath and counted to ten in her head, but she knew she could hardly force him to deal with his problems when she was so resistant to discussing her own.

"I think the parlors near the docks would be best. The closer they get to the adjoining districts, the more British-friendly they get."

"You seem to know a lot about the good opium parlors. Found a new hobby?" The Doctor's smile was back in place, his mercurial moods making Vastra's head spin. She went with the change, however, anxious to dispel the slight air of tension.

"Hardly. But I doubt you'd be surprised at the number of tasks from the good inspector that have taken me through less-than-savory areas of London."

The Doctor polished off the last of his tea. "Well, then, should we grab some dinner before we go poking around where we aren't wanted?"

They dined at a small waterfront tavern near Westminster, keeping the conversation lighthearted and reminiscing about their travels. Vastra didn't consider herself to be lonely, as such, but she found she was enjoying the evening immensely. It was a tremendous relief to talk freely without worrying that she would give herself away or cause a ripple in London's timeline.

They were on the final course when they heard the alarm bells of a fire wagon speeding by. Vastra exchanged a glance with the Doctor, and they both rose without a word and made their way out into the street. The early winter sunset had left the city dark and enabled them to see the glow of a fire not far off.

"Does that look awfully close to St. James Park to you?" the Doctor asked.

Vastra frowned. "I can't imagine why that fire should have anything to do with my case."

"Course not." The Doctor shoved his hands in his coat pockets and nodded. They stood together in silence for several minutes, until Vastra huffed and stalked over to the nearest cab. She refused to look at the Doctor, knowing he was grinning as he followed her.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure that Ten & Vastra haven't gone a little more antagonistic in this story than I originally intended. I feel like Ten does a lot of moralizing (whether consistent or not) while Vastra is rather pragmatic, and I think those two things would bring them into some conflict. But they love each other underneath it all, and I hope that still comes through at times as well.
> 
> Chapter warning for violence and (non-graphic) rape.

The remains of Lord Edwin Burrows' elegant townhouse blazed fiercely. The mood among the bystanders was almost jovial - someone had let it be known that there we no occupants in the house, and so the gawkers could enjoy the spectacle guilt-free.

The mood among the small knot of constables was far more somber. Vastra and the Doctor stood nearby, observing Inspector Griggs as he engaged in a rather spirited discussion with the head of the fire brigade.

"You have the most remarkable propensity to find death and destruction and dive in headlong," Vastra said quietly.

"Oh no, this one was all you, old girl," the Doctor shot back. "I just came by for a cuppa."

"Your mere presence skews the odds towards havoc." Vastra studied the burning house. "I hardly think they were trying to hide the murder. The constables may not have aroused suspicion in the general public, but the murderers certainly could have spotted them."

"Obviously trying to hide something," the Doctor replied. "Wanton destruction just doesn't jive with almost ritual killings in search of ... whatever they were in search of."

Vastra furrowed her brow. "If they know the murders were discovered, and we must assume they do, then they will also know that the house has been searched and the bodies removed. If this was done to cover up some sort of evidence, it must have been something small, something that we might easily have overlooked."

The discussion was cut short when Inspector Griggs waved them over. The fire chief stalked off, pausing only to jerk the bill of his cap in Vastra's direction in a strained attempt at manners. Griggs glowered at his retreating form.

"Damned fool," he grumbled. "Says they saw somebody running off when they first arrived. But did they bother to grab 'im? Course not."

"Failing to delay the prevention of another Great Fire in order to do a job they haven't been trained to do. Disgraceful," Vastra said.

"Exactly!" Griggs barked. Vastra heard the Doctor give a peculiar cough that she suspected disguised a laugh. Griggs, who apparently wasn't listening to a word she said, remained blissfully ignorant.

"Did they get a good look at the suspect?" the Doctor asked after managing to get his coughing under control.

"No, he was all bundled up against the cold, so they say."

"Still, it definitely suggests this was no accident." Vastra gestured to the townhouse. "Were all the bodies removed?"

"We got Lord Burrows out. We were waiting for nightfall to bring all the others down." Griggs spat on the ground. "Damned nuisance. Got the higher ups breathing down my neck now. We need to figure this out, quickly."

"And by 'we' you mean me," Vastra said.

"I know you like to work at your own pace and all, but something mighty strange is going on here."

"I shall do my very best, Inspector."

* * *

They started their search near the docks in Limehouse. The opium parlors there had a tendency to regard Europeans with deep suspicion, and Vastra found she might as well have been talking to the ornately paneled walls for all she got out of the first few proprietors.

The Doctor fared little better with the patrons. The few that weren't already lost to the haze of the opium were decidedly unfriendly towards strangers, especially those asking odd questions. After several unsuccessful stops, Vastra called a halt. They stopped in front of a rickety tentement building, Vastra shivering slightly from the biting wind while the Doctor remained impervious as ever.

"We need a new plan of attack."

The Doctor nodded. "What if I go in as a customer?" he suggested.

"I feel that won't play out well. 'Hello, I'm brand new here, fancy a smoke. Oh, and do you have anything extra special grade while I'm at it?' The whole idea screams 'suspicious.'" Vastra drummed her claws irritably. The Doctor pulled a small wallet out of his pocket and studied it, then put it back with a slight shake of his head.

"It's much easier to get information when people can read," he muttered. "Also when you have an actual human along."

Vastra watched the traffic pass by without really seeing it, mind focused on the problem at hand. She was so deep into her thoughts that she almost didn't register a faint scream, drifting on the wind from the direction of the docks.

She frowned, wondering if she had actually heard anything. Tipping her hood back slightly, she listened intently. The Doctor noticed her sudden agitation and perked up, scanning the surrounding area.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. Maybe nothing. Maybe trouble."

Vastra's careful attention was rewarded a moment later when she heard another scream, barely at the threshold of her hearing. Vastra only hesitated for a moment before setting off in the direction of the noise. In a place like Limehouse, crime was only too common, and she seriously doubted anyone else on the street would be prepared to go to the aid of a stranger in unknown distress.

They moved carefully but quickly, the Doctor scanning the alleys and doorways around them for potential danger while Vastra focused all her attention in the direction of the screams. The deepening twilight hid them from casual observers, but it also increased the potential for confusion among the narrow, twisting streets. She heard nothing further and began to worry that whatever had happened would be long over by the time they arrived.

As they turned up a side street, a sudden gust of wind carried the strong scent of tobacco toward Vastra. She cocked her head and heard the low murmur of voices up ahead. She and the Doctor exchanged a quick glance and crept forward, keeping to the shadows at the edge of the street until they reached the mouth of an alley. The Doctor peeked around the corner, and she saw his hand clench involuntarily, knuckles whitening. He laid a restraining hand on her arm as she looked over his shoulder.

"Let me distract -"

Vastra cut him off with a low growl, her rage flaring white-hot as she took in the scene. Four human males had a girl cornered in a dark area of the alley. She could see a fifth male holding the girl to the wall, one hand clamped around her throat to silence the screaming, the other pinning her skirts up. The girl struggled weakly against his thrusts, although Vastra could see from the scratches on his hands and face that she had put up quite a fight before being trapped.

The laughter and taunts from the men cut off abruptly as Vastra snarled. She shook off the Doctor's hand and stalked forward, flexing her claws. The first man died quickly, with barely a moment to scream, and Vastra hissed. _Too quickly._ Her blood lust was rising, and she bared her teeth in a fierce grin as the other men, conscious now of their dead companion, began to fan out around her, drawing their weapons.

The man holding their victim shoved her away as he turned to join the fight. The girl's head struck the wall with an audible crack, and she slumped to the ground, suddenly limp. Vastra saw the Doctor from the corner of her eye as he shifted to the edge of the alley, trying to reach the girl. She backed up in the opposite direction, drawing the pack away from the prone figure.

One of the men lunged forward, swinging his truncheon in a vicious arc at her head. Vastra ducked the blow, stepping inside the man's swing and raking her claws across his belly. He sank to his knees with a gasp, hands going to his stomach in a futile effort to hold his shredded guts in place.

A glancing blow to her shoulder sent Vastra staggering forward, but she recovered with catlike speed and pivoted to the side, flicking out her tongue and opening up a slice along her attacker's neck. He reeled back, stunned, and she could already see faint green lines spiking out along his veins. His limbs gave out a moment later, no longer responding to his brain as his nervous system shut down. She could feel blood dripping down her back where the man had opened up her shoulder, and she knew the pain would come soon enough, but she stayed focused on the fight at hand.

The two remaining men circled Vastra, looking extremely wary. One of them had a sap in his hand, and he began to swing it in a slow arc, gradually building up speed. His ploy might have worked if Vastra hadn't seen his eyes flick briefly to a point over her shoulder. She whirled around. The other man had his hand thrust in his jacket, and she knew instinctively that he was reaching for a firearm of some kind.

She lashed out with her uninjured arm, catching the gunman in an iron grip and hauling him around just as the last man swung his sap with bone-crushing force. The lead-filled pouch caught the gunman full in the side of the face, shattering his skull and lower jaw and spraying a fine mist of blood across the alley. The man wielding the sap didn't hesitate, ignoring his dead companion as he brought his weapon up for another strike. Vastra hurled the body straight forward into her attacker and followed up with a vicious swipe to the face while the man was off-balance.

Windmilling his arms in a desperate attempt to stay upright, the man didn't notice that the fight had brought them back in range of the Doctor and the girl. Still looking dazed, but having apparently regained consciousness, the girl struggled briefly against the Doctor's hold and managed to stretch out one foot. The man's boot caught and he tumbled backward, head striking the wall at an oblique angle that twisted his neck forward unnaturally. Vastra heard a snapping noise and knew the man was dead before he hit the pavement.

The sudden effort appeared to have been too much for the girl, who slumped in the Doctor's hold, eyes rolling back in her head. The Doctor felt at her throat for a pulse, his eyes flicking over the carnage in the alley.

"That was ... efficient," he said quietly.

"Save your moral judgments," Vastra snapped. He stared back at her for a moment, dark eyes unreadable.

"My moral judgments seem to be badly lacking these days," he demurred. "In any case, we need to get this girl someplace safe. She's alive, but weak. We can hardly leave her here."

Vastra nodded. "You do that. I'll ... clean this up."

She might have imagined the Doctor's slight wince. She preferred not to think too hard on it. He gathered the unconcious girl in his arms and left the alley without a backward glance.

Vastra checked over the men quickly to ensure that they were all, in fact, dead. She frowned as she took note of the rather uniform clothing and hairstyles they sported. All wearing similar clothes, and all of Asian descent. She felt an uncomfortable prickling beneath her scales. _I don't like coincidences._ The men's pockets yielded a few coins and tobacco pouches, but nothing to identify them or tie them to Vastra's murder investigation. Still, she couldn't shake the lingering notion that something odd was occurring.

Although dead bodies were hardly an uncommon find in the underbelly of London, disembowled corpses would probably attract abnormal attention, Vastra realized, not to mention the one she'd poisoned. She wasn't averse to fresh meat, but all it would take would be one late night pedestrian stumbling across the sight of a mysterious figure devouring bodies to send London into a blind panic.

The nearby harbor provided the final answer. Bodies thrown in water had a way of turning up, but Vastra didn't care that they never be discovered, only that the cause of death was no longer obvious when they were. _A few weeks of water and river creatures, and they'll just be another of London's commonplace casualties._

She couldn't do much with the blood spatters around the alley, but without superhuman senses like hers, neither could anyone else, so Vastra left Limehouse reasonably satisfied. It was late, and the wind had turned bitter, causing her to shiver and pull her cloak tightly around her.

Vastra wasn't looking forward to dealing with the Doctor. He had at times prevented her from slaughtering innocent humans, and once she calmed down, she generally agreed with him, but they had never seen eye to eye on the treatment of criminals. This version in particular had a tendency to give her a lot of grief over her brand of justice, and while Vastra was quite capable of going toe to toe with the Doctor in a debate about morality, she didn't enjoy it.

She was mildly surprised to reach Paternoster Row and see the lights up in her townhouse. She wasn't exactly sure where one would take an injured girl late at night, but she'd imagined it would take the Doctor a bit longer to find it.

As soon as she stepped inside, however, Vastra stiffened. _He wouldn't._

She started towards the office, but a low voice from one of the front bedrooms caused her to redirect her steps. She stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight of the Doctor muttering under his breath as he monitored various vital signs and used his sonic screwdriver to scan the bed's occupant.

"When you said we needed to take her someplace safe, this is not precisely what I had in mind," Vastra said.

The Doctor glanced up. "Oh, good, you're home. I was a little worried she'd wake up with just me here. Didn't think that would go over too well."

Vastra closed her eyes briefly and fought the urge to strangle him. "May I speak to you downstairs?"


	5. Chapter 4

"Poor girl," the Doctor said as they entered the sitting room. "Probably been living on the streets, no decent jobs to be had, nowhere to go."

Vastra gave a noncommittal grunt. The Doctor ignored her. "Shame she'll never get taken in as help for a respectable family. Especially after this. Might save her life."

"Enough." Vastra's snarl cut through the Doctor's muttering, but when he turned to look at her, she was stunned at the faint glitter of unshed tears in his eyes.

They stared at each other across the room. Vastra could feel the distance between them, but she couldn't begin to fathom how to bridge it. Whatever baggage the Doctor was carrying, he obviously didn't intend to share.

"Whatever it is you want from me, I can't. Whatever's happened to you that's causing you to try to force me to mingle with the humans, or guilt me into caring for this one -"

"I don't have to guilt you, Vastra." The Doctor smiled slightly. "I just have to remind you there's a good person in there underneath all that anger."

Vastra started to pace, keeping well away from the Doctor. "Once, perhaps, there was."

The Doctor just watched her walk for the longest time. Eventually he spoke again.

"I don't know how long she'll stay unconscious. She took a hard knock."

"I seriously doubt we can raise anybody at this time of night. In the morning I'll have her taken to the hospital." Vastra sank into one of her plush chairs. She wrestled over whether or not to mention her suspicions about the attackers, but in the end, the desire for a second opinion won out.

"Did you notice anything odd about those men?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Other than the fact that they were members of a tong? Wouldn't be that noteworthy in Limehouse ... except for the odd little coincidence of Edwin Burrows. No real reason they should be connected though."

"Indeed. And yet ... I don't like coincidences." Vastra drummed her claws against the arm of the chair. "It could be nothing."

"But you don't think so."

"No." Vastra couldn't quite pin down why, but something didn't sit right about the entire situation.

"Maybe you ought to keep that girl around, if this really is related," the Doctor said. He ignored the glare Vastra sent his way. "Look, I know you, better than you think. You respect that girl for trying to fight back. And if those really were tong members, and they really are involved in this mess, what do you think is going to happen to happen to her if she ends up back on the street before you clear this up?"

Vastra scowled. "Fine, if it will get you off my back. I'll even find a place for her to go when she leaves. Does that satisfy you, is it helpful enough?"

The Doctor patted her shoulder as he walked past. "I'm just trying to get you to help yourself as well."

She heard the stairs creak as he returned to the girl's bedside. Vastra spent a few moments contemplating the Doctor's melancholy before giving herself an irritated shake and heading to the pantry in search of food. A twinge in her back reminded her that she still needed to patch her own injuries.

As she awkwardly struggled to stitch the gash across her shoulder blade, Vastra turned over the opium problem in her mind. She considered the merits of hiring a frequent client of the parlors to spy for her, but then, she supposed opium users might not be the most reliable and trustworthy of sources.

A brisk knock at her door pulled Vastra from her thoughts, and she made her way to the front hall, curious about who would be calling so late. She opened the door to find a young constable with a large box in his arms.

"Everything the Yard had on the Burrows family, ma'am, compliments of Inspector Griggs."

Vastra carried the box to her study and began to lay out the contents. Newspaper clippings, society publications, club memberships, military records ... she paused on a photograph of the Burrows family, taken from a local newspaper. It was dated 1874, with a caption indicating Burrows' parents, Lord Edwin himself, and another brother, Thaddeus Burrows. The article was an obituary, denoting the passing of the elder Lord Burrows and the bequeathing of his estate to his two sons. The article also listed the family estate, Candleberry Hall.

Many of the military records were redacted, but Vastra did discover that Lord Burrows had been titled in his own right after exemplary service in the Royal Navy. She also came across an odd note instructing that T. Burrows was to be monitored while on Admiralty grounds and not admitted without prior appointment. Acting on a hunch, she turned to the club papers. Lord Edwin's membership record was largely unblemished, but she found one brief description of a disagreement with a club guest. There was no mention of the guest's name, but the note indicated that Burrows had dealt with the issue. She set the record aside with the obituary.

A loud thump from the guest room caused Vastra to hesitate. She cocked her head, listening, but didn't hear any other concerning noises, so she returned to the papers. A moment later the Doctor popped his head in the doorway.

"Ooh, find anything interesting on Burrows?" he said.

"Perhaps." Vastra held up the obituary and military note. "Family estate, younger brother, may have had a bit of a falling out."

"Brilliant. In the meantime, we may be better off if you're around for the next time our guest wakes up."

"Do you want to give her a heart attack on top of everything else that's happened tonight?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I don't think she's too keen on strange men at the moment, judging by the book aimed at my head."

"I hope it wasn't one of my rare editions." Vastra frowned. "You may be unfortunately alarming to her, but at least you're human-looking."

"She's going to find out sooner or later if she's hanging about here. Trust me, of the two of us, you're far less frightening right now."

"Well, there's a first time for everything, I suppose." After stacking the papers neatly and returning them to the box, Vastra gestured for the Doctor to lead the way. He was correct, Vastra realized - now that she'd committed to keeping the girl until the danger was past, there was little point in prevaricating. Better to get the screaming over with quickly.

The girl was sprawled sideways across the bed when they walked in, and Vastra frowned at the Doctor. "What did you after she threw a book at you, knock her over the head?"

"Of course not. Just gave her a little mental tap."

"Are you quite sure that was a good idea? Human brains are delicate."

The Doctor snorted. "Don't I know it."

In spite of herself, Vastra felt a twinge of sympathy for the girl. She never ceased to be amazed at all the ways humans came up with to be cruel to each other. The girl was deathly pale, whether by nature or as a result of the evening's trauma, Vastra couldn't say, but it served to highlight the vivid bruising around her neck and jaw and the fresh cuts and scrapes on her face.

The girl thrashed restlessly, eyes flicking back and forth beneath closed lids. The Doctor patted Vastra on the shoulder and slipped out of the room. She sighed and drew a chair up next to the bed.

She was debating the merits of finding a cloak with a hood when the girl's eyes slipped open, gaze drifting vacantly around the room before settling on Vastra. The detective leaned forward slightly, ready to stifle any overly loud screams, but the girl merely blinked a few times.

"S'ppose I'm dead, then." Her voice was thready, and even to Vastra's non-human ear it sounded painful. "You some kind of demon that's gonna torture me?"

Not the most flattering reaction, certainly, but Vastra had dealt with worse.

"You are not dead, although the same cannot be said for the men who attacked you."

The girl's brow furrowed slightly. "I thought that was a dream, them dyin', but it was you, wasn't it?"

Vastra inclined her head in acknowledgement. "My friend and I brought you here to rest and recover." She saw the girl glance around curiously. "After you started flinging hard objects at him, he decided we would all be better served if he stayed away."

The girl struggled to sit up against the headboard. "Why?"

"He worried that seeing a strange man might be upsetting in light -"

"No, why'd you bring me here? Why'd you help me at all?"

"Oh." Vastra blinked. "I suppose because it is not in his nature to ignore someone who needs help, and it is not in mine to let monsters go free."

"And what -" The girl tried to speak again, but a violent coughing fit interrupted her. Vastra poured a glass of water from the pitcher by the bedside.

"I think that's enough talking for tonight. You need to rest. No harm will come to you in this household." Vastra observed that the girl didn't seem entirely convinced by this, but she settled back against the pillows without any further complaint. After waiting a few moments to make sure the coughing didn't resume, Vastra turned the lamp down.

"My study is down the hall, should you require assistance."

She found the Doctor leaning against the wall outside the guest room.

"How's the patient?"

"Seems to have all her faculties. Thought she'd died and landed in hell, probably an understandable error under the circumstances."

"I think I've died and landed in hell every time I turn up in Cardiff," the Doctor said. Vastra rolled her eyes and led the way back to the study.

"I doubt I'll get any sleep tonight, between the girl and this shoulder, so I might as well make some more headway on these case notes. You're free to use any of the rooms."

"Actually, I might head off."

Vastra tapped her claws on the desk and pinned the Doctor with an irritated glare. "I've already agreed to keep this human nuisance until the case is resolved. If this is your asinine way of continuing to force me to interact -"

"No, honestly, no, it's not." The Doctor frowned. "I just think she might be better off not having to see me around all the time, y'know?"

"She can't avoid men forever, particularly not on this planet."

"Well, she probably could," he muttered. "But no, not forever, just, for a little while. Until she has time to process. Until she heals and isn't feeling so physically weak, you know?"

And that, Vastra had to admit, made a certain amount of sense.

"Where will you go? Or when?"

"Dunno yet." The Doctor shrugged. "There's a few mysteries I've been meaning to look into, might finally get around to those. Or I might just set the TARDIS to random, see what I get. Luck of the draw. Just go out there and have fun, wherever I find it."

Vastra hesitantly reaches out and patted him on the shoulder. "You know my door is always open to you, Doctor. Take care of yourself, and come back."

He smiled, but his eyes were stormy. "Of course. Don't throw that girl in the street as soon as I'm gone."

"I shall try to resist the urge."

As she watched the TARDIS fade from her stable yard, Vastra couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been visiting to say goodbye.


End file.
